The Prophecy

A/N — Before anyone starts in on me, I just want to say that this house isn't the one at Godrics Hollow. Just a house. This isn't the scene where Dumby goes all "GAH! FriendsBad".

James Potter paced anxiously in his living room. He and his young wife, Lily, had just moved in two days ago. Not the easiest thing to do with Lily due to have their first child any day now, but necessary. For reasons unknown to either of the lovers, they were being hunted like animals by Voldemort, the leader of the Dark Magic movement.

Everything that the couple owned was still in boxes and would stay in boxes until James's friends could come over; James didn't have the time to unpack everything. As his lovely wife had put it, he was in charge of "Making sure the baby wasn't born in the bathroom." All that seemed to mean was that James had to follow her around and make sure that she didn't miss the toilet when she got sick.

So, as James Potter paced he kicked at the boxes restlessly. He didn't understand why on earth Dumbledore would want to talk at this time. Didn't the old bugger have something better to be doing? Wasn't there enough going on with the Order without bothering James and his family? It wasn't the James didn't like the Headmaster, that wasn't it at all. It was more like James didn't want to look at him. For the past few days, James had been in a house with his wife with no outside contact. They had been safe from everything, and totally ignorant of the changes in the war. It had been nice not to worry about such things, to forget the horrors just beyond his gate, but James knew that seeing Dumbledore would bring everything back into a harsh focus.

There was a loud rap on the door that caused James to jump. He walked cautiously over and called out hoarsely: "Who is it?"

"Albus Percival Wulfric..."

James rolled his eyes and opened the door. "I get it, you're Dumbledore."

The old wizard stepped in lightly, taking off his black pointed hat as he did so. His robes were a magnificent blue, perfectly matched to his eyes. His long white beard and hair nearly touched the ground as he moved further into the house and glanced around. "We seem to be short one member of our party. Where is dear Lily?"

James flicked his wand at the boxes covering the couch so they would move and offered the Headmaster a seat, which was taken gratefully. "She's asleep," James answered, sitting himself. "I guess carrying an infant in ones stomach is tiring."

Dumbledore smiled at the young man, but no familiar twinkly graced his eyes. "Well, that is, in a matter of speaking, what I am here for."

James stared at the man, confused. "You're here about Lily being pregnant?"

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his temples tiredly, apparently considering his words carefully. "Yes and no. James, you are aware, I'm sure, of Severus Snape being hired for the Potions Professor post?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore looked at James, not missing the hint of malice in the man's voice as he had answered. "I...I'm sorry, James," the old man said, hanging his head. "I should have told you sooner. If I had, there would have been options. But now...now there is nothing left to do than to say it and hope for the best.

"I conducted an interview with Sibyl Trelawney for the post of Divination Professor some time ago. She did rather terribly, unable to predict even the next days weather. As I said my goodbyes and turned to leave, however, she began to speak in a voice so harsh that I knew it could not be hers."

James stared at the Headmaster, interested in everything the man was saying, but curious as to why he was saying it. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

The Headmaster turned to James and grabbed his shoulders, forcing them to face each other. "I believe Sybil made a prophecy regarding your child and I think you need to hear it."

"My child?" James asked with a nervous laugh. "Why could she have possibly have said about an unborn baby?"

"Tell me James," the Headmaster asked in a voice of hushed urgency, "is your child going to be a boy or a girl?"

James stared. "Boy, why?"

The Headmaster groaned and sank into his seat, muttering "Potter or Longbottom?" repeatedly.

"What do you mean by that?" James demanded, more harshly then he meant to be. "What does that mean, "Potter or Longbottom?""

Dumbledore stood abruptly and pulled James to his feet. Reaching into his pocket, Dumbledore pulled out a tiny stone basin and sat it on the sofa. "Engorgio" he whispered. The sofa grounded under the weight of the now large stones, but James didn't care; he wanted answers.

Dumbledore paused for only a moment before raising his wand to his head and pulling out a silvery memory stand. Depositing it in the basin, he turned to James. "I must warn you that what you are about to hear is not pleasant and I will fully understand your rage." With that, he stirred the contents and stepped back to watch.

James could feel his heart racing as images began to swirl and could have sworn that his heart had stopped altogether when the form of a batty looking woman in large glasses appeared and began to speak.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...

and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

James didn't need to hear another word. He knew what the prophecy meant: it meant that his son was going to be murdered, and James would not harbor the foul man who told him of this in his house any longer. Fighting back tears of agony and rage, with his hands balled into fists, James pushed the Headmaster out of the door, pausing only to get rid of the Pensieve as well.

He tore up the stairs and ran into his bedroom where Lily was attempting to stand. As James approached her to help her up, he saw the odd stains on the bed. She just smiled up at him, her green eyes glowing with excitement. "It's time, James."

That's what he'd been afraid she'd say. There was nothing he could do now but hope that his son, his son, would be OK. Without a second thought to the prophecy or the Headmasters question of "Potter or Longbottom?", James brought his wife to the hospital.

On July 31st, 1980, Harry James Potter was born. It was only on the first of August that the happy new parents that Alice and Frank Longbottom had also had a son that week, on the 30th of July.

The rest, as they say, it history.